


Set Aside and Allow to Thicken

by ao3afterdark



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Incest, Parent/Child Incest, Sibling Incest, along with nonconsensual gangbang, and as of chapter two:, even more voyeurism, nonconsensual voyeurism, take one parts noncon and two parts table sex and let it simmer with resentment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:21:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ao3afterdark/pseuds/ao3afterdark
Summary: Malcolm Hawke has a longstanding... understanding with his oldest daughter, but over time, that doesn't prove to be enough.





	1. Chapter 1

It began as it had many other nights, with Malcolm giving a nod of his head towards the barn, not making the slightest attempt to wait until everyone else was occupied. The first few times she'd resisted, had pretended she hadn't seen, but he was pleased to see her shoulders sag now. She gave no other sign of having seen, but that was just as good. Better.

He sat back in his chair, legs kicked out under the table across the chair opposite him. He was achingly hard, tenting his pants, and he was confident enough that it would be missed by the others, hidden as it was beneath the table, that he lazily draped his hand into his lap atop it. Stared directly at his oldest daughter where she still sat across from him as he worked his thumb and forefinger beneath the hem of his pants and closed them around his cock. He hummed satisfaction, eyes drifting half shut. Allowed his hand to drift back and forth just slightly before falling still.

  
He watched her from beneath the fall of his lids as he clenched and released his hand around his length. Knew that he had her when she shivered, her hand coming up to grip her upper arm, watching his avidly as he sank still lower into his chair, sipping at his drink as the room slowly cleared out.

Leandra came to kiss him last. Didn't look once at her daughter, her shoulders held stiff, and he just barely resisted the urge to ask her if she wanted to join in, just to see her expression, before she turned and walked to their bedroom. He knew she would lie awake for hours, waiting for him, and decided to give her a treat.

“Come here,” he told his eldest. Smiled when she hesitated, though it held no humor and quite a few promises he knew, they both knew, she did not want to collect on.

She made her way to him with jerking steps and stood before him, clenching and unclenching her hands at her sides as she pushed his chair away from the table so that she could clearly see where his growing erection pushed against his work trousers. “Well?” He said, not bothering to keep his voice lowered, a slow smile curling his lips. “Make yourself useful.”

She hesitated again, for the space of a breath, but sank readily enough to her knees. Reached for him with hands that shook, as they had no matter how many times they did this, and pulled him out. He let out a long, unselfconscious groan when she wrapped calloused fingers around him, pleased, as he always was, to see that she couldn't take him all the way into her mouth without that hand wrapped around his base.

He waited until her mouth had sank halfway down him before bucking up, pushing as far into her mouth as he could. Gave a satisfied grunt when she choked and snapped out a hand to grip her hair and yank her down onto him until he felt her throat flutter around him, held her there as he fucked her mouth as hard as he wanted, making soft wet sounds he knew would be easily heard in his and Leandra’s bedroom. Made sure to groan his daughter’s name aloud before finally released her, only to haul her up onto the table where they had eaten just a few bare hours ago and yanked his daughter’s pants and smalls down to her ankles.

She turned her head away when he ripped her shirt open, scattering buttons. She grit her teeth on a harsh noise but he grinned with satisfaction to see her legs had started to drift apart, baring her the rest of the way to his gaze. He wasted no time in shoving them wide. Gripped her thighs, digging his thumbs in just way he knew she liked, his breaths going near soundless when she shuddered and twisted, her heels digging into the table legs as she arched up into his hands, a whine building up between her teeth and tongue, near begging him to touch her.

This was one of his favorite parts of this game they played, waiting for her need to overpower her pride. Sometimes it took hours, and he reveled in every moment. He wondered how long it would take tonight. Leisurely bent to take a nipple into his mouth as he circled her clit with one forefinger, never quite touching it. When she started to squirm, her breath coming with more difficulty, he moved his hand down to trace up and down her folds, almost but not quite dipping inside her as he circled the slick evidence her own arousal around and around and around until her voice broke on a plea. “Touch me,” she begged, wriggling on the table to try and press up against his cock, but he easily held her down with his other hand.

“No,” he said simply, a fierce bolt of smug pride mixed with arousal flaring through him. She flushed with shame but couldn't help the first of what he knew would be many moans this night when he slowly pressed a crooked finger into her waiting cunt, her hips leaping up to follow when he drew it out. “That's not how I brought you up. We ask proper when we want a favor.”

He knew the phrasing would burn her up, and it did, the pretty russet glow to her cheeks deepening when her lips peeled away from her teeth, then further when he replaced one finger with three without warning, pumping them out of her slow but hard, relentless, pulling out a sharp, high cry of need that broke upon meeting the air. “We say please when people are doing something for us that we need,” he said gently, so gently, a counterpoint to the harsh slap of skin against skin. “Tell me, or I'll stop.”

“Fuck you,” she grit out, just this side of a sob, and he sighed, pulled his hand free so that she let out the shaking cry she'd been trying to hold back. “Please! Please touch me,” she babbled, her hips leaping up towards him when he smiled, when at last he started to line his cock up. “That's a good girl,” he crooned, making her snarl again, just the way he'd wanted her to. Made sure to lock his eyes on hers as he drove in her in one long thrust that made her choke on her next words, made her scrabble at his shoulders and his back. “You're being so good for daddy.”

He passed a hand down her stomach and back up to tweak a nipple until she cried out and clenched around him so tight he saw stars. Grunting, he gripped both her hands in one of his shoved them down onto the table over her head as he rocked his hips, burying himself between her legs again and again. "Quiet," he ordered when she sobbed for breath. Hitched her legs over his shoulders and used this new angle to fuck her long and slow and deep, gliding in and out of her with agonizing slowness, memorizing every inch, what drew forth what sound. "You're so wet for daddy," he said against her ear. Smiled when she shivered and bit the tender skin just below her ear and bore down until her hips jerked, pushing herself further down his shaft. "Do you touch yourself, thinking of me? Of this?"

He held himself still until she whined and fought the grip of his hand against her wrists. He lifted her wrists and slammed them back down even as he thrust in her hard enough that she gasped an inarticulate noise when he bottomed out. "Told you to be quiet," he said, then bent over her when a thought occurred to him. "I told your mother you beg me to fuck you," he whispered, lips curving when she hiccuped out a sob that was half a moan and worked herself against him. He could feel how slick she was, spattering him every time he drew out, and he gripped her hip bruisingly hard and yanked her down on his cock until she moaned for him properly, until she spread her legs wide on his shoulders. "Told her you wait for me in our bed when she goes to market. That the first time we fucked it was there. That the second time was on her side."

He hadn't said that he'd fucked his daughter from behind on that occasion. That he'd wanted to really see her tits bounce when he fucked her until she cried, but he was more than certain Leandra's imagination had been able to fill in the details. Like the way her chest heaved when he pressed his thumb into the soft skin of her hip and followed her when she jerked away, all of his breath tumbling out when he drove into her hard enough her breasts swayed, so he did it again, and again, setting up a rhythm she couldn't hope to keep up with, though he was pleased to see that she tried. Worked herself against him, panting harsh and loud and wild, broken whimpers falling between thrusts that he didn't bother to quiet.

He let his hand fall from her wrists, down to her thigh to grip it hard enough she wailed as he pumped in and out of her fast enough her every breath was a keen. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, eyes locked on her, caught and held in breathless expectation, knowing she would obey but needing to see it for himself, the power he had over his daughter turning him on nearly as much as the tight, hot clench of her around his cock.

He let out a ragged groan when she did, when she started to pinch her breasts, hesitantly at first and then with greater urgency when he only quickened the pace, balls slapping wetly against her tight little cunt. “I wonder,” he said louder, “if you'll give me any children? Brothers, twins maybe, who would grow up knowing what a-” he grunted, lifted his hands to hold her ankles up and pounded her harder, making cry out, making her hand fall back against the table with every hard thrust,”whore their mother is.” His daughter sobbed but twisted, fucking herself on his cock with just as much clear desperation as he fucked her. “I think so. I think it might be this time. Beg me to come. Beg.”

She tossed her head on the table but remained silent until he slapped her ass simultaneous with thrusting into her hard enough to shove the table across the floor and screamed, “Please! Please come! Fuck!” And started to sob, weather with need or not he didn't know, didn't care, his mind fuzzing out with savage pleasure as his hips stuttered against her once, twice more and giving a loud, harsh yell as he spent himself deep inside her. He could feel her come almost as he did, squirting around him so that his last thrusts were sloppy and wet and so arousing that the world whited out at the edges.

When he came back to himself, it was to find himself bent over his sobbing daughter in the kitchen table. Now, that was no good, was it? “Let me tuck you in,” he said, groaning as pulled out of her with a shockingly loud pop. He didn't bother to rearrange himself into his clothes. Why bother, when he'd be getting much more use out of his cock before the night was through?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hadn't planned on writing a second chapter to this, but when someone special specifically requests it, well,

If you visited a certain farming town situated at a crossroads along the royal highway at a certain time of night and were of a certain disposition, a nod here and a coin passed hand to hand there would get you into a back room of the local inn. It was hardly palatial, filled more with bags of flour and vegetables than tables, but there you would find a man who went by Malcolm and his young daughter, who you could have any way you wanted, for a price.

To the men crowding into the room, Malcolm's daughter looked on the verge of hitting or screaming or both. She was shorter than Malcolm by more than a head, but with strong shoulders and a stronger jaw. She thrust it out now at the farmers and travelers eyeing her up and down, bristling, as she clenched and unclenched her fists. "Don't worry about her none," Malcolm assured their audience in an exaggerated accent meant to emphasize the country, so that the farmers would know him as one of their own, and the travelers underestimate them. He smiled. "She knows better than to bite, and, well," he said with a soft laugh as he passed a hand down his daughter's curves, "a little fight makes it interesting, am I right?"

There an appreciative murmur, and then someone asked the expected question. How much.

Another grin flashing in Malcolm's dark beard. "Silver for her mouth," he said. "Two for her ass, and..." he looked at his daughter, his smile curling up at the corner when he added, "her cunt is free."

There was some discussion about this, and Malcolm's daughter stiffened as the first coins clicked into the jar on the only table in the room, recoiling ever so slightly until she fetched up short against Malcolm's palm. "She ever been taken in the ass before?" Asked the man, who Malcolm delighted in recognizing as the sergeant who had been training his daughter to be a guard these past few months. Well, looked like he wanted to train her in something else, and who could blame him.  "Not once," Malcolm said, which was a half truth, but good enough to satisfy the guardsman.

There was a bit more discussion between the other four men, another coin in the jar, and his daughter was shoved down to her hands and knees. She was breathing in hard through her nose, almost panting, clearly trying not to show she was afraid and doing a bad job of it, enough that the man who'd moved in front of her laughed and smoothed a hand down her hair, kept in a tight coil at the back of her head. "You'd look prettier with it down," he said, then added, "prettier still with cum all down your face," and laughed when she recoiled away, into the caressing hands of the guardsman at her back.

Ordinarily, she hated frocks and skirts and only wore leggings, but Malcolm had ordered her to wear one of her younger sister's skirts for the occasion. It was too small by half, barely reaching her knees, and the guardsman gave a coarse laugh as he shoved it up over her hips. She wasn't wearing any smalls, either, and the guardsman seemed to appreciate that, too, judging by the way he smoothed his hands over her bared skin. "All this time you've been teasing me," he said quietly, sliding a hand between the curve of her cheeks to tease at her cunt, "making me think about you when I'm a properly married man, tug myself to thinking of you, and all this time..." He smacked her ass without warning, earning a cry that made him groan. "And all this time you were here to be taken." 

Malcolm had settled back in his chair beside the table, watching with heavy lidded eyes as both men took themselves out. There was a special kind of anticipation to watching your own daughter get fucked unwillingly by strangers, but even more so by men she knew, men she'd trusted, and he couldn't help, didn't want to help, a low groan as he watched the man in front of her grip her tight by the hair and shove her mouth down hard on his cock. She'd been getting her fair share of practice in this area, but still she struggled as he began to fuck her mouth hard and fast, which he noted excited the man more than anything, judging by his groans and the spasmodic tightening of his hands in her hair. Malcolm had started to lightly grind the heel of his hand against his cock beneath his trousers as he turned his attention to the guardsman. A jar of lubrication used by farmers sat nearby, but the guardsman ignored it, leaned heavy against her back as he rocked himself against the folds of her cunt, slicking himself up with her. She was hardly aroused at first, fear making her dry and stiff between his arms, but between the cock in her mouth forcing her back on his cock and the hand he shoved between them to toy roughly with her clit, it wasn't long until she started to push back to meet his thrusts. The guardsman's cock had started to make wet noises as he slid between the folds of her cunt, and both he and Malcolm let out a sigh as the guardsman rearranged himself and shoved hard into her ass.

His daughter jerked with a scream that was muffled by the cock in her mouth. Malcolm groaned as his cock twitched. He undid the ties on his trousers and took himself in hand, eyes fluttering as he watched his daughter being speared from either end. He didn't know which he wanted to watch more, though a rasp of a swear on Andraste's name had him look away from the gape of his daughter's ass as the guardsman briefly withdrew before shoving home in time to see the man before her pull out of her mouth in time to come all over her face and hair. In time to see her twist away, only succeeding in pushing back hard on the man in her ass. She let out a ragged scream and bent down to sag onto her hands and knees when another man stepped up and spoke briefly to the guardsman, who wrapped an arm tight around her throat and yank her upright so that the man, a farmer judging by the clothes he was easing down to his hips. The farmer took his time touching her all over, first, which Malcolm was more than happy to allow. Ripped open her shirt to palm her small breasts and drag nails down her ribs, which made her hiccup a sob and push back just slightly into the guardman's next thrust, earning a groan that rippled from man to man around the room. "Hurry up," someone else said, lazily pumping his cock as he watched Malcolm's daughter writhe between their hands. "I'm looking at that mouth and I want a taste."

"Don't rush me," the farmer grunted, but he obediently moved onto his back so that Malcolm's daughter could be shoved into his lap. She had a brief moment to get out a "Wait, wait," before the farmer yanked her down hard onto his cock. "Wait," she said again, breathlessly, but Malcolm could see the muscles jumping in her legs as they eased open wider. Malcolm was breathing harder with her every movement, and teased himself by swirling his thumb around in the pre-cum beading at the tip as he watched the farmer roughly take his daughter, gripping her buisingly tight at her hips as he shoved into her hard enough that she cried out. Or maybe that was the guardsman who was still in her ass, gasping out praises with every roll of his hips.

"What a good whore," he breathed out as she rocked back onto him, "what a hard worker. So eager for cock." He readjusted himself, and with his next push into her she groaned aloud. She'd started bucking back into his thrusts, only to be pulled back hard onto the farmer's cock, and between them she was coming undone.

"Please," she was whispering, gasping when the farmer yanked her down so that he could suck at her breasts.

"Please what?" Malcolm asked. His hand had mostly fallen still on his cock except for the occasional pump, and still he was almost painfully hard. He wanted to touch, to taste and take and take again, and restricting himself to watching was exquisite torture. "I taught you better," he said with a laugh went breathless when she did.

"Father, please," she pleaded between shuddering rocks of her hips as the guardsman pulled her back onto his next, final thrust, groaning words into her shoulder that Malcolm didn't hear, not over her wordless cries as the guardsman came deep within her with stuttering thrusts, or the half-sob half-groaning whine she made when the guardsman stepped away, only to be replaced by another man, who shoved into her cunt alongside the farmer. His daughter let out a wail, only to be silenced as another cock was shoved in her mouth.

Malcolm's mouth was dry he watched her twitch and buck into every thrust, every cock, even as the farmer was replaced by another, and another, when she'd started to let out unbroken moans. When she arched into every thrust, when she agreed that she was a whore, if only so they would touch her more. And they did.

Only after the last of them had tucked themselves away with a rustle of cloth and a clink of coins in the jar did Malcolm ease his daughter into his lap. She was shivering, soaked with the seed of men he hadn't bothered to count, and he slid into her easily. He thought he might like these times the best, when she was oversensitive from so many hands and mouths and cocks and reacted to the slightest touch, when cum and her own arousal made wet noises every time he drew out and sank back home, when he could laugh against her skin and call her seven kinds of whore. "Tell me," he murmured against her sweat soaked skin, sliding his hands up her trembling flanks and back down to grip into the bruises at her hips as he took her slow, slower, until she started to sob.

"Please," she said, a whimpering, breathless thing.

"That's not what I wanted to hear," he said, pulling out of her until the head of his cock rested between her swollen lips but that, no matter how she rocked her hips, she couldn't take him back inside her.

"I'm a whore," she told him, letting out a keening wail when he pulled her back down onto him so that he sank into her to the hilt. "I'm your whore."

"Good girl," he groaned as his thrusts started to come faster. "What a good girl you're being for your daddy." He grinned when he said it, when she rocked her hips into his every thrust. This was his victory, all the power he'd ever want, watching his oldest cry out for his cock and knowing that it was only a matter of time until he'd take his second daughter, too, as he'd taken her. It was that thought that made him come, as much as the tight clench of her cunt around him as she reached her own climax, and he pulled her down against his chest as he shuddered through the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

His daughter was still panting atop him as he came down. She reached out a hand to him, and he shoved it and her aside as he climbed back to his feet. "You know the routine," he told her. "Bar first, then we hit up the neighboring farms on our way home. My friends did us a few favors recently, and they deserve to be paid." He lifted an eyebrow when she reached for a rag to clean herself with. "I want to know what's slicking up between your legs when you walk," he said. "Want your mother to look at you and know what you are when we get home tonight." His daughter turned away slightly, but not before he saw the expression on her face, one that made a bolt of interest stir through his groin.

Maybe they'd take a little longer getting to the neighbors after all.


	3. Chapter 3

The days leading up to Bethany and Carver’s eighteenth birthday were… strange.

Their father had been particularly jovial, teasing the twins with hints as to their birthday surprises and catching Bethany up in a hug whenever he had the opportunity, which was nice, if somewhat off-putting. Bethany wasn't one to question good things on the rare occasion they happened, however, much as she did not question how her older sister, Adriel, had been particularly cold.

Not that that was unusual in and of itself. Adriel had withdrawn these last few years, a hurt that Bethany had shoved down as best as she could. Told herself that Adriel’s new aversion to touch and the way she snapped on the few occasions Bethany had questioned it were a part of growing up, though she missed the way things had been when they were younger.

That was not to say that she was entirely unaware of the noises and muffled talk that came from the kitchen sometimes, or the way their mother had begun treating Adriel, but she told herself that they were fighting. Adriel shared a sharp temper with their mother, after all. Carver had snorted the last time she'd asked him about it and called her sheltered, but he'd refused to clarify what he meant, had instead turned his face away and gruffly told her to focus on things she could change.

As the day of their birthday and all it's delights faded into night, Bethany started to wonder at her mother’s absence. She had left shortly after dinner, saying she was going to visit with a neighbor, which was strange enough at this time of night, but stranger still was the way everyone had been acting.

Even Carver was acting strange, tense and jittery with nerves she didn't understand. She tried to talk with him about it, but it hadn't gone anywhere. He'd barely spoken a word, and when she'd moved to touch him he'd jerked away like she'd slapped him. Shocked and hurt, Bethany could only watch as he'd moved to pour himself a drink from the cask Malcolm had opened for the celebratory dinner. Carver never drank, not like this, like he was trying to forget something. Bethany wavered in place for a few moments, tears warring with a strange dread in her belly, which was just silly, wasn't it?

She pushed those thoughts away as best she could and moved to approach him again when her father stopped her with a hand at her waist, which threw her off enough for him to tug her around to face him. “Are you ready for your last present?” He asked, with that crooked smile he got when he was pulling a prank.

Bethany tilted her head. Unusually she'd answer in kind, but the strange way Carver and Adriel had been acting, that mother had been acting, made her hesitate. Made her look towards where Adriel and Carver stood by the cask, silent and tense. A coil of unreasoning fear curdled in her gut, and maybe Malcolm saw it through her automatic smile, because he gave a soft laugh, one that would have been reassuring if he hadn't followed it with, “Get undressed.”

Bethany stared, fought for words when he didn't laugh, didn't give her the punchline to a joke she was starting to suspect had been played on her this whole time. “Wh-what?” She managed at last. Her smile was shaking in her attempts to keep it up, and she took a shaking step backwards. “Why are you talking like this? This isn't funny.”

“I know it isn't,” Malcolm told her, his smile just as real as it had ever been, but his eyes were much sharper. “It is very serious. Step out of your clothes, Bethany.” Bethany did not look around at her siblings, who did not say a single word in her defense. She felt very alone and very, very exposed as her father went on to say, “Show us those perfect breasts, Bethany, or I promise that you will open your eyes tomorrow morning to a templar’s sword.”

Bethany went very still then, fine trembles running up and down her every nerve as she watched her father sit himself down at the table, legs spread wide, and she saw-

Bethany jerked her head away and up to the ceiling with a strange sound she almost didn't recognize as coming from her mouth, which broke apart into a sob when Malcolm told her, “I'm waiting, Bethany.”

Her breath hitched on a sob as Bethany lifted unsteady hands to start to unclip the buckles that held her chainmail onto her tunic. Carver had made her that chainmail, and she risked a brief, terrified glance behind her at Carver, enough to see the tilt of his mouth that echoed her own. She turned back around at an impatient sigh from Malcolm and stepped out of her chainmail as it slithered down her torso to pool onto the dirt floor of the one room cottage they'd all shared this past year.

Malcolm had said that the rent was too expensive in this village for a larger one, but she couldn't help but wonder about that as she lifted her hands to the ties that held her tunic closed. It took her a few tries to get them undone, her hands shook so, but finally she got them open enough to pull them aside and bare her breasts.

Bethany made a choked off noise and tried to cover them as she felt her father’s eyes settle over them, and, Malcolm was vocally pleased to see as he stood to yank her hands away, her blush had extended down to the peaks of her breasts. She stood, wide eyed and quivering as her father smoothed his hands up her curves and up, higher, to grip and toy with her breasts. Only Bethany herself had ever touched them, and that was only with a hesitant, uncertain hand. She'd read a scandalous book once, long since lost, but her own hand had never felt the way the book described it, not the way it felt now, as her father swirled his thumb around her nipple.

“I've always wanted to see what I had a hand in making,” he said, just softly enough she had to strain to hear. “I did a good job with these, didn't I?” He asked as he gave his fingers a twist to pinch her nipple, chuckling when Bethany cried out. “Look at them,” he said as he pushed her back until her legs hit the bed she shared with Carver. “Look at you. Perfect, ripe to be plucked.”

Bethany’s mouth had started to shake as she glanced aside her father, towards the door, until a set of strong hands closed around her shoulders and yanked her back onto the bed. She looked up, shock and betrayal twisting cold fingers around her chest as she looked at the underside of Carver’s chin. She started to ask him something, anything, but words failed her.

Magic flickered between her fingers, until Carver switched his grip from her shoulders to grab her hands and held them over her head with one of his. “None of that,” Malcolm told her with a smile. “Besides. You think I'd have taught you anything that would help right now? What sort of fool do you take me for?”

Bethany’s inheld breath started to shake as she let out a tiny, choked sob as she realized what that meant, how long her father had planned this, as he bent to start taking off her boots with slow, unhurried movements.

There was movement at the side of the bed, and Bethany turned her eyes to see Adriel, holding coils of rope in her hands. She did not meet Bethany’s eyes, only reached down to start to wind rope around Bethany’s hands and bind them to the headboard. Adriel did not say a single word as Bethany started to plead with her, near gasping on held back tears. “Addie help me, I don't-” She started to cry, turning her face to press against Carver’s calf as their father started to tug her trousers down her legs, pausing every few inches to press kisses against her skin. “I don't want this, Addie, please-”

“That's not what you ought to be begging for,” Malcolm said as he settled between her legs, tugging her closer to the edge of the bed by her hips. Bethany gulped down a sob as she felt him graze his hand against the core of her, then another as he slid a finger between her folds. “You're going to beg me to fuck you before we are done here tonight,” he murmured, curving his finger in a way that made something warm coil low in her belly.

She shifted on the bed, uncertainty twisting her mouth until her father sank two more fingers into her and started to pump them in and out. “Oh,” she sighed, surprise and something else making her twist on the bed as her father worked his fingers in and out of her.

“I knew it,” Malcolm said on a soft laugh as Bethany whined when he withdrew his fingers. He wiped the wetness on his fingers against her lips and pushed them in when she opened her mouth to ask him… something. “I knew you were aching for this, just like I was for you.”

He watched her mouth purse around his fingers and gave a shuddering sigh as he pulled them free, only to use them to push her legs wide. “Look at me,” he told her, in a soft voice that nevertheless made her look up at him in a daze. “I want to see your face as you take every inch of my cock.”

Bethany had started to breathe fast, faster as she watched him take himself out, gripping his length with one hand as he lined himself up, though she couldn't see well enough at this angle to actually see his cock. She felt it though, felt him tease at her cunt with the head of his cock until her panted breaths turned into a whimper that went high as he slid inside her. She arched as he sank into her inch by inch, choking out a rough noise she hadn't known she was capable of when he was pressed flush against her, buried inside her to the hilt.

Malcolm gave a breathless laugh and turned his head to kiss her, which was somehow even more startling than any of the rest had been. “Remember this moment,” he told her, groaning between clenched teeth as he pulled out of her. “You're going to be chasing it the rest of your life.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but she forgot what it was entirely as he shoved back in hard enough that the bed creaked. He withdrew again, causing her to make a noise that came straight from her toes before he thrust back into her, setting a fast pace that she could barely keep up with. Every time he pulled out made her clench around him near desperately, whining at the lack and making him make wordless noises of approval as he sank back in her, again and again.

The bed rocked back and forth, setting up a metronome as constant as the slap of Malcolm’s balls against her cunt, every one of which made Bethany twist around noises that left her feeling empty. Conscious thought was retreating further and further away, and so she only found it in her to moan as her father hitched her legs up around his shoulders where they had been drifting wide for him, bending her near in half as he snapped his hips, pounding her deeper at this angle than he had before.

“There we go,” Malcolm grunted, baring his teeth in a grin down at Bethany as she surged up to meet his thrusts. “Look at you. Took your sister a month, and here you are with my cock deep inside you, begging for it. Let me hear you, Beth,” he panted between thrusts, punctuating his demand with dragging one hand through her sopping folds to her clit, making her buck against him with a ragged cry. “Beg for it. Let me hear my little songbird sing.”

Behind them, Bethany thought she might have heard Adriel make some sort of noise, but she was too caught up in the movement and desperation to really take much notice of anything except her father and her father’s cock splitting her wide and full and wanting. Bethany shivered and rasped out a half word that made her father slow, just enough to be frustrating, to make her whine and arch up as much as she could to chase sensation. “Sing, Beth,” Malcolm demanded.

“Please,” she gasped, twisting on the bed with a ragged wail as Malcolm dragged his cock back and forth just as the entrance to her cunt, not quite going inside. “Please, father, I-”

She shuddered out a sob when Malcolm shoved back inside her in one long thrust, filling her up until that hollow feeling that had ached with every second he hadn't been fucking her was gone as if it had never been. “Good girl, Beth,” her father growled against her breasts as he started to lick and suck them with every roll of his hips. They both groaned every time he bottomed out inside her, and she could feel his cock twitch as she started to beg again, without even knowing what she was saying, just wanting him to move more, more, please.

And he did. Gripped her hips tight and moaned her name as he buried himself in her cunt again and again. “Beth,” he said, “my dear Bethany, my whore,” his words starting to slur together as his thrusts sped up. “Say it!” He near yelled as he pounded against her harder, faster.

“Please!” He bit down hard on her shoulder as she gasped out, “I'm your whore!” and came deep inside her with a shout. Bethany felt it, felt a rush of warmth inside her that made her moan and twist on his cock as he thrust inside her again, then again, growling out her name as he took what he wanted from her.

When he finally went still he sagged against her, panting, pressing her down into the bed she shared with Carver. He stayed like that for a few short seconds before he peeled himself off of her, humming satisfaction as he watched cum drip from her cunt in rivulets after he withdrew from her. “You've never looked more beautiful,” he told Bethany, settling back on a chair Adriel had pulled up beside the bed, and wound the fingers of one hand through her older sister’s hair. “Watch now,” he told Bethany, dragging her attention from where it had started to fade away. “This is what is going to be expected of you, now.”

Terrified to do otherwise, Bethany watched helplessly as her older sister sank to her knees before their father and started to lick him clean. Adriel’s hands hung against her sides in tight, white knuckled fists that Bethany only looked away from when Malcolm said something to Carver that made Carver let out a rough, despairing noise.

“Do you want me to ask you twice, boy?”

That got him moving. She heard Carver, before she saw him, heard the slow shuffle of reluctant footsteps. He started to undress, too, when Malcolm told him too, and it was impossible to miss his insistent erection where it jutted between his legs, angry and red. Carver flushed when he saw her looking at him, and shuffled, but he did not move, staring helplessly at her with an agonized expression until Malcolm asked him if he planned on sitting there until the templars came.

Carver finally moved, with a small, choked off noise, bending over her with one hand rising to twist in her hair and the other around her hip and then down, down and down to wrap around himself on a low curse. Bethany opened her mouth to say it was okay, he was okay, but it wasn't and he wasn't, and she could only look into eyes for as long as she could as he slowly started to push inside her.

Bethany was slick with her own arousal and Malcolm’s seed, and Carver couldn't help but let out a groan as he felt her cunt clench around him, hot and wet and tight. He bent to press his face into her shoulder as his hips jerked of their own volition to bury himself within her, letting out a moan as Bethany’s breasts pressed against him when she sobbed for breath.

Carver started to pull out slowly, agonizingly so, and Bethany pressed up after him despite herself with a whimper. Carver tried to shush her but his voice shook as he reached down to wrap his hands around her hips. “Please, Bethy,” he said in a strangled voice that turned into a breathy moan as he sank back into her. Without thought, he pulled out again until just the head remained inside then pushed back in, quicker, setting a rhythm that left them both breathless.

This was different than with Malcolm. Where, before, every gasp and twitch had been nearly pulled out of her, here she rolled up eagerly to meet him, her mouth dropping open in a shuddering moan as Carver tugged her back with his hand in her hair to press a kiss against her throat that was every bit as soft and gentle as the thrusts pounding against her weren't. Bethany didn't want them to be. She needed to feel the electric spark as he picked up the pace with every thrust, panting her name.

She let out a wild cry when he moved one of his hands to her clit. Her fingers weren't as practiced as Malcolm’s, but she didn't need them to be. She needed Carver, all of him, now, right now. She didn't realize she'd said the last part out loud until Malcolm let out a laugh behind them.

Both twins jerked and froze in place. “So this is why you didn't argue with me when I told you I was going to fuck her,” Malcolm said as he paced away from the chair to stand next to Carver. Bethany was tense and shivering, staring up at Carver and only Carver. He started to shake his head frantically, croaked out her name when Malcolm interrupted to tell him to pull out, that he'd done his job. Carver didn't move for a long moment, shivering with things Bethany could not name, and then he tugged himself free.

“The only one who’s going to come inside your whore of a sister is me,” Malcolm said as easily and calmly as he'd said good morning that day. “Feel free to fuck her mouth, though.”

Carver moved faster this time, recognizing an order when he heard it, moving around the bed to crouch on it above her head. She stared up at his cock where it bobbed over her, rock hard and glistening from where he had recently been inside her.

She twisted at the thought, still trembling from Carver, and couldn't hold back a long, low moan when Malcolm sank back inside her. “Missed this already,” Malcolm laughed, giving two hard, relentless snaps of his hips that made Bethany cry out. Her mouth hung open on a gasp as Malcolm directed Carver to push inside her mouth.

Carver brushed her cheek with a hand before he shuddered out a rough noise as the head of his cock nudged past her open lips. She thought she could taste herself on his cock, but it was impossible to tell. He was thick and throbbed on her tongue as he slowly pushed deeper inside her mouth. She started to gag almost at once, writhing on the bed. Before Carver had so much as started to pull out, Malcolm told him sharply that if he did, that would only be the first cock in her mouth this week.

Carver sobbed, bent low over her as he rocked farther inside her mouth. He groaned helplessly as she twisted, whispering apologies as he started to rock back and forth. She could barely breathe between thrusts, every time he tugged free affording her a brief instant before Malcolm shoved home in her cunt, driving all of her remaining breath out of her.

After that, it was hard to think, hard to breathe, hard to do anything but move and move again. Carver and Malcolm were filling her up again and again, the whole world distilled down to sound and taste and friction. She twisted on the bed, straining to touch Carver as she felt herself approaching some sort of precipice, something she needed, wanted, and sobbed around Carver’s cock as she strained against Malcolm’s cock.

“Don't worry,” she heard her father say as if from far away, “I would never fuck a whore without making sure she got her reward.” The next thing she knew, she felt Malcolm’s fingers circling and pinching her clit, working her closer and closer to something she could not name, and then a wash of pleasure boiled up from her belly, making her spine bow as she shuddered again and again around Malcolm’s cock. He groaned, thrusting inside her hard and fast, making her cry out, half a sob.

Carver moaned her name, his hands clenching on the bedsheets as his own thrusts inside her mouth grew faster, grew uneven, and then he was coming hot across her tongue. Bethany couldn't breathe for the taste of it, thick and salty and wholly unexpected. She was forced to swallow it in order to breathe, and she gasped as Carver finally pulled out.

He sank back onto his haunches, breathing hard as if he'd just run a mile as he watched cum drip from her open mouth. Malcolm was still moving, still fucking her, and it was too much and not enough. “Beg, Beth,” Malcolm was saying,” and with effort she looked back up at him. “Beg me to come in you.”

She could barely wrap her mind around words right now but she did. Opened her mouth and the words “Come inside me, father, please,” came out, followed by a guttural noise as Malcolm thrust inside her once, twice more, burying himself deep inside her as he came for a second time, growling her name as he pumped his hips hard against her, making her twist and cry out until at last he stilled.

“There,” he laughed after some minutes, lifting his eyes to look at his three children. Bethany, with his cock still buried balls deep inside her and messy with his and her twin brother’s cum, Carver where he sagged, still panting like a bellows but his cock already half-hard, and Adriel, her hair missed where Malcolm had gripped it, her face streaked with dried tears. “You can't say I don't make birthdays something to remember.”


End file.
